Edward's Midnight Sun
by suzjross
Summary: The title says it all. Beginning with Edward and Bella's last night together before the wedding. I like to hope it's canon faithful. Also, I do so love reviews...
1. Chapter 1: Last Night

**Edward's Midnight Sun, Part 1: Last Night**

In which Edward Cullen spends a last night with Bella Swan before their wedding in Breaking Dawn.

_Edward and Bella and all the other recognisable characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No money will ever be made as a result of this text, and no copyright infringement is intended._

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"I miss you already," Bella breathed, her arms snaking around my neck, pulling my face to hers for another kiss — her heart pounding.

"I don't need to leave. I can stay. . . ." I murmured, obliging her, meeting her slightly parted lips and feeling, to be perfectly honest, a bit light-headed. Really, she was good enough to eat. Skin like pale rosebuds, lips like sugar —

"Mmm," she hummed, her hands on my bare chest, leaving trails of stinging heat in their wake. She was driving me out of my mind. When my eyes were closed, my mouth locked to hers, her hands on my body, immersed in her sweet, delicious scent, I just… I couldn't… For heaven's sake! I could barely remember my own name. Was I thinking like a man, or a vampire? Was I thinking at all?

I opened my eyes to look at her, and remind myself not to swallow her whole. We'd been doing this for weeks now, our relationship balanced on a knife's edge, always playing with the possibility of going too far. Since Bella had agreed to marry me, and I'd agreed to a real honeymoon… Just thinking about it did something to my body that I absolutely knew was dangerous. And Bella! Was she crazy? Bella was wanton — she did everything she could — everything I would let her do — to undermine my self-control and push me from my precarious balance. It was…

Wonderful.

No, awful! In the time since Bella had entered my life like a wrecking ball, I'd gone from ravening beast to besotted Romeo, to protector and avenging angel. I'd tasted her blood and even though the bloodlust that had commanded me to drain her dry had been the most overwhelming compulsion I'd ever felt, I hadn't killed her. I'd made the unthinkable mistake of imagining I could live without her, and I'd suffered the worst misery of my existence fighting against my own desire for her fragile life, only to find her fighting for mine when I had no right to hope that she could ever love me again. Now, I lived constantly in a bewildering amalgam of unmerited bliss and something darker. Shame, maybe. Or grief.

What I'd never done was simply let myself feel the almost painful joy of possessing her — I'd never just let myself want her.

Right now, her cheeks were flushed pink, her lips stung and swollen from kissing me. Her hammering heartbeat was the loudest thing in the room except for my breath, ever more ragged as her sweet, unbearable scent washed over me. I wanted her so desperately my head swam.

She drew back and opened her eyes, and looking deeply into mine for a long moment. What was she thinking? As usual, I didn't know, but I didn't need to be a mind reader to see how much she loved me and wanted me, body and soul. And, Bella believed I did have a soul. Well, if I did, it was hers. It felt like I spent most of my life these days simply feeling overwhelmed. Could it really be true that tomorrow this girl would be mine? Would Charlie really put her hand in mine, and would she truly bind herself to me forever? How could I ever have deserved such a fate? I felt like a criminal, like I was getting away with…

She pulled my face back to her mouth and kissed me again, her lips insistent, her hands sliding down my back, pulling me closer to her with a little sigh.

…what was I thinking?

"Definitely staying," I breathed, as her melting softness pressed against the length of my body. I thought about how this would feel without the blankets, without these now uncomfortably tight jeans…

"No, no. It's your bachelor party. You have to go," she murmured. There was no conviction in her voice, and as she said it, she wound her fingers through my hair and pressed me closer to her, crushing my hips into hers. I hoped she didn't feel my resistance, but I just could not bear it. Trying as inconspicuously as possible to give my aching arousal some space, I brought my hands up to smooth back her hair, stroke her hot, flushed cheek, and held her with my eyes.

"Bachelor parties are designed for those who are sad to see the passing of their single days," I told her, smiling. "I couldn't be more eager," it was an incredible understatement, "to have mine behind me."

"True." She breathed, dropping her face to whisper the word against my throat, her lips moving over my cold skin, as her hand traced over my shoulder, down my chest and then slid down my stomach, dangerously close to… She kissed me again, hungrily, her tongue, pressing against my lips. Good God. I was at sea. I felt like I was capsizing. Like I was holding onto her for ballast. What was I waiting for again? Why couldn't I just tear the flimsy barriers — blankets, clothes, deals we'd made — out of the way and… and… a tremor shook me as her hand fluttered at the low waist of my jeans, and I gasped against her mouth. There was a ferocious appetite building in my body, a need to…

It had to stop. This was Bella, fragile, beautiful Bella. I pulled back.

"Wait," she pleaded, pulling me closer and pressing her maddeningly luscious body against me and wrapping a leg around my waist. "Practice makes perfect."

I laughed in spite of myself. "Well, we should be fairly close to perfection by this point, then, shouldn't we? Have you slept at all in the last month?" Had I had a single coherent thought in the last month?

"But this is the dress rehearsal," she pressed, "and we've only practiced certain scenes. It's no time for playing safe."

She'd been joking, but I couldn't laugh. I felt myself go cold. It wasn't just what she'd said, but her tone — like there was something humorous about any of this. I couldn't help but feel that she'd been… conned. Lulled into a false sense of security. It was my fault. I'd let our relationship become so much more physical than ever before, and now it was building to some… I could barely think the word… climax. She trusted me not to hurt her, but she had no idea about the knife's edge, or about the ruthlessness of the desire that was building in me.

There'd only ever been one thing that had called me as inexorably, and that was the bloodlust I'd felt on the first day I'd seen her. The violent feelings I had now called out for a different release, but they felt just as wild, just as ungovernable. She couldn't conceive of how close — nearly indistinguishable — the need I felt now was to the old savagery of my desire for her blood. I knew didn't want to hurt her, even that I couldn't — not on purpose — but my body? My body wanted something, and there was nothing gentle about it. Was there something in my nature that could not be denied? A monster that still wanted to consume her?

"Bella…," I whispered.

"Don't start this again," she said flatly, "A deal's a deal."

"I don't know. It's too hard to concentrate when you're with me like this."

Concentrate! What nonsense. I was nowhere near being able to concentrate. The problem was so much more basic than that, but I simply could not articulate it. "I… I can't think straight. I won't be able to control myself." I was ashamed now. "You'll get hurt," I finished, pleadingly.

"I'll be fine," she insisted, stroking my face. Her vampire fiance. Seriously, she was completely insane.

"Bella . . ."

"Shh!" she said, stopping my thought with insistent lips, trying to part mine. I kissed her back. Part of me wanted nothing more than to just surrender and just…

No. Not possible.

Struggling for some much needed control, I thought about baseball, pizza, Rosalie, Mike Newton, Jacob Black. Jacob Black. Abruptly, a devastating sadness swept through me. Jacob. Bella's best friend and would-be lover. I'd seen her in his mind — seen the way he wanted her, seen him kiss her and hold her, and live with her as a true mate — a wife and mother of his children. Of all the myriad fantasies I had seen in his mind, it was the one that cut me deepest, and even though she would never have admitted it to me, I knew she'd felt his pull; the pull of that life. I could never give her that. Thinking of what Bella was giving up to literally give her life to me was sickening.

I was a monster.

"How are your feet?" I asked her, trying to hide the turn my thoughts had taken. It would only pain her to hear the misery in my voice, and though I could no longer actually hope she would, some small part of me was still afraid she might come to her senses.

"Toasty warm," she replied.

It wasn't what I'd meant, and she knew that I knew that she knew it. I sighed. "Really? No second thoughts? It's not too late to change your mind," I insisted half-heartedly.

"Are you trying to ditch me?" She said it like it was funny; like she knew it wasn't true. At least there was that — as least now she knew now that I could never even think about leaving her, selfish, depraved creature that I was. I shook my head, feeling wretched, but laughing a little in the darkness for her sake.

"Just making sure. I don't want you to do anything you're not sure about," I said, keeping my voice buoyant with effort.

"I'm sure about you," she reassured me, and then, after a pause, "the rest I can live through."

Live through it? Firstly, she wouldn't, and she knew it. Her insistence on becoming as cold and hard as I was, eternal and immutable, even when I'd been forced to accept that it was inevitable, still provoked a spiralling sense of despair.

"Can you?" I pressed quietly. "I don't mean the wedding — which I am positive you will survive despite your qualms — but afterward…" I paused. Part of me wanted her to listen, part of me was terrified she would, "what about Renee, what about Charlie?"

"I'll miss them," she sighed, and a hint of real sorrow tinged her voice. She looked away, thoughtful, but said nothing more.

"Angela and Ben and Jessica and Mike," I tried again.

"I'll miss my friends, too," she said, with a sad smile, before shooting me a mischievous glance in the darkness. "Especially Mike. Oh, Mike! How will I go on?"

I groaned. At one time, nearly undone by jealousy, I'd wanted to tear Mike Newton limb from limb, but not now. Now I was just irritated. Would she ever realise what she was doing? I was a thief, stealing her life, her family, her chance of a family of her own. Stealing her chance at a human life with all its joys and pains. Could I really ask her to give that up for me?

She laughed at me, and then, suddenly serious, pulled me around to face her. "Edward, we've been through this and through this," she said, looking into my eyes. "I know it will be hard, but this is what I want," she affirmed. "I want you, and I want you forever. One lifetime is simply not enough for me." She was decided, and certainty rang clear in her voice.

"Frozen forever at eighteen," I whispered.

"Every woman's dream come true," she replied, teasingly.

It bothered me that she didn't take this more seriously. She couldn't really know what she was asking for, and I couldn't escape the feeling that she hadn't really thought about it. Maybe it was the difference in our ages — she was 18 and I was, well… much older. She'd fallen in love, and knew what she wanted for now, but what about later? Would she come to hate me for what I'd done to her? Could she really know what she'd want in 10, 15, 50 years? Would I be enough to sustain her through the long years of an immortal life? Was I a demon to be hopeful that the transformation could freeze her as she was now, obsessed with the single-minded desire to be mine, forever?

There had been times in my long life, in fact, all the time before I'd met her, when I'd felt just… empty; living a paltry half-life before she'd come to Forks and wreaked havoc on my inertia. I loved my family — Carlisle and Esme, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, even Rosalie — but as time passed, as faces and places changed around us while we stayed the same — ever changeless still-points in the turning world — a creeping despair had begun taking me, and it was all I could do to distract myself. I'd buried myself in studies, in music. I'd even once tried just living like the beast I was, but being a real monster had only made it worse. No matter what I'd done, I'd been unable to get over the feeling that nothing mattered, not really. Until I'd been shaken awake by Bella.

"Never changing… never moving forward," I said, looking into her eyes, trying to make her see.

She'd finally felt my mood. "What does that mean?" she asked, seriously.

I hesitated. She wouldn't like it. I tried to hold her dark eyes in mine, tried to will her to understand. "Do you remember when we told Charlie we were getting married?" I offered, as she nodded, "and he thought you were… pregnant?"

"And he thought about shooting you," she broke in laughing suddenly. "Admit it—for one second, he honestly considered it." She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with humour.

I couldn't answer. I couldn't laugh.

"What, Edward?" she asked, worried now.

"I just wish… well, I wish that he'd been right."

She gasped. Incredulous? Or, had she finally understood? She stared at me, her eyes wider now. I rushed to fill the silence.

"More that there was some way he could have been. That we had that kind of potential," I cast my eyes down on her warm hands held now in my cold fingers. "I hate taking that away from you, too."

She was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I know what I'm doing."

"How could you know that, Bella?" I insisted, looking at her again. "Look at my mother, look at my sister." I added, flinching — especially my sister. Rosalie had never stopped aching for everything she'd lost. "It's not as easy a sacrifice as you imagine," I said, shaking my head.

She stopped me. "Esme and Rosalie get by just fine. If it's a problem later, we can do what Esme did—we'll adopt."

I let out a long, exasperated breath, and then I was suddenly angry. Not at her; at myself. How could I do this! How could I have allowed this to go so far? How could I let this beautiful, perfect girl love me and sacrifice everything to give me everything I had ever wanted? I was so horribly, appallingly selfish! I wanted her blood, her body, her heart… and not in any metaphorical sense! I would actually take her heart from her; stop it from beating. Forever. I felt suddenly desperate, like I'd let things careen wildly out of control, and now we were headed for an inevitable disaster. Tomorrow she would leave her father's house — not that it had ever been any protection against me — and I'd take her away. Tomorrow night, I'd have her, all alone and far away, and I'd finally…

"It's not right!" I burst out, angrily. "I don't want you to have to make sacrifices for me! I want to give you things, not take things away from you."

She was shaking her head, finally seeing the pain in my face, finally seeing that I was serious.

"I don't want to steal your future. If I were human—" I started, pleadingly. She stopped me, putting a hand over my mouth.

"You are my future, Edward," she said, softly. "Now stop moping, or I'm calling your brothers to come and get you. Maybe you need a bachelor party."

Moping. It was too mild a word. I wasn't moping, I was grieving. And, now on top of everything else, I was doing it on the night before her wedding. What could I do to change any of it now? I couldn't leave her, I couldn't convince her not to do this. Worst of all, as much as I knew she wanted it, I knew I wanted it — wanted her — so much more. The desire felt like a hot stone in my gut.

"I'm sorry. I am moping, aren't I? Must be the nerves," I finally said, trying to smile a little through the lie. It was a struggle.

"Are your feet cold?" she asked, her forehead creased, suddenly worried. Was she was actually absurd enough to imagine that this had anything to do with not wanting her?

"No." I told her, "I've been waiting a century to marry you, Bella. The wedding ceremony is the one thing I can't wait—"

Edward, stop freaking out all over that poor girl and get out here. We have big, sexy plans for you. It was Emmett, exasperated. He and Jasper were outside in the trees.

"Oh, for the love of all that's holy!" I huffed.

"What's wrong?"

"You don't have to call my brothers." I said through my teeth. "Apparently Emmett and Jasper aren't going to let me bow out tonight." She held me closer for a moment, loathe to let me go, and then released me.

"Have fun."

Emmett scratched at the window with claws of steel — fingernails on the chalkboard times a million. Bella shuddered.

"If you don't send Edward out," Emmett hissed in his scary voice, "we're coming in after him!"

She'd released me immediately and sent me away with a laugh.

The next time I'd see her, she'd be in white, promising herself to me for as long as we both shall live. I felt such an unholy tangle of things — first, the ache of leaving Bella, even just for a few hours, and the desire for her that throbbed endlessly in my body. I felt the bewildering joy of knowing that she would soon be mine. But, I also felt like a criminal — a thief who would steal her future, a murderer who would stop her heart.

A rapist.

Even as I thought it, I knew I was going too far, and shook it off. I knew the minds of such men, and I knew that they knew nothing of the love I felt; the love that had driven my every action from the time I'd realised that I could never slake my murderous thirst on her precious blood.

Maybe I was being melodramatic.

I followed my brothers into the night, glad no one could trespass on my thoughts the way I trespassed on theirs, but I was in no mood for a bachelor party.


	2. Chapter 2: Stag Party

**Edward's Midnight Sun, Part 2: Stag Party**

In which Edward goes with Jasper and Emmett for a bachelor party and feels rather angsty.

_Edward and Bella and all the other recognisable characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No money will ever be made as a result of this text, and no copyright infringement is intended._

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Edward, are you all right? Jasper thought. We were running through the forest now, following Emmett. Emmett had a plan.

"I feel a… disturbance in the… uh… force," he added, joking.

I'd been silent since we'd left Bella's house. Still tangled up in a labyrinth of mingled grief and selfish joy. While I'd been with Bella, wrapped up in her arms, kissing her, the joy was marginally stronger, but here in the dark without her, I just felt selfish and depraved. Grief was winning. No matter what, the warm, soft girl I loved wasn't going to survive, and I not only was I willing to risk her soul to keep her with me forever, but I was also willing to risk killing her because her soul wasn't enough for me: I wanted her body, too. Oh, I'd made a production about my objections, and I'd tried to delay — insisted on matrimony — but I couldn't lie to myself. I was choking on how horribly I wanted her. I looked at Jasper, his leonine face glowing softly in the silvery moonlight and nodded curtly.

I wasn't fooling him. He put a hand on my shoulder to slow me.

_I can feel how conflicted you are, Edward._ Jasper's thoughts were sympathetic. _Tell me. Maybe I can help._

I shook my head, looking away, trying to keep the emotion out of my eyes. I'd spoken with Carlisle about the deal I'd made with Bella — our agreement to have a real honeymoon before I… Well, was there any other way to look at it? I would end her life. Was there any part of this that wasn't reprehensible?

That wasn't how Carlisle had seen it. He'd asked me what right I had to ignore Bella's decision, and tried to make me see my impulse to self-sacrifice as the real selfishness. He'd reminded me with his memories how I'd hurt them all, and Bella, so deeply while trying to do what I thought was right and leaving her. I'd told him about my fears, but Carlisle had had faith in me.

Like Bella, Carlisle believed I had a soul and that, transformed as it already had been by love, I needn't fear the power of the emotion I'd feel to unhinge me. He'd been certain that I'd never be able to hurt the girl who had awoken every better feeling I'd had since becoming what I am. He'd admitted that there was danger for Bella. In the act of love, he'd told me, I'd be given over to my senses, like when we hunt. Restraint would be an effort and a sacrifice: I wouldn't be able to completely abandon myself to it. Bella would need me to be conscious and gentle, and that wouldn't be easy for me, but Carlisle had been confident that, whatever my fears, letting myself hurt Bella was an impossibility.

Carlisle thought too much of me.

His words had comforted me at first, so persuasive when he's spoken them, but now all I could think about was how dangerously out of control I felt when Bella was close to me, and my wild desire to crush her closer still. Could I restrain myself? I didn't think so.

My whole existence, it seemed, came down to this one thing: restraint. I'd restrained my thirst for decades, and it had become… not easy… but, second nature to me, until Bella had disrupted me. I'd regained control through sheer, Herculean acts of will, and then, when I'd wanted it least, I'd tasted her blood — to save her from becoming like me. That taste — that experience — changed me. Fearing for her life, racing to her when for all I knew, she might already be dead because of my selfishness, had been the most abject horror I'd ever known, and when I'd sucked James's filthy venom from her wound, her blood had been unbearably sweet. The pleasure of finally tasting it had been searing, almost impossible to resist, but it had been mingled with so much pain and guilt.

Even now, her scent still burned me and brought the venom rushing to my mouth, but though it still had the power to make me hate myself, my desire to drink her blood was gone.

I'd half-jokingly called myself a masochist once, but there was truth in that. I suffered my deplorable, burning thirst gladly now, knowing it meant that Bella was alive, and that she was near me. The burn of it had become… well… part of the sensation of being hers, and I was nothing at all if I wasn't hers. My desire — my need — to be with her was the strongest force I'd known in my long existence. It was, without question, stronger than the siren call of her blood, but it was inextricably bound up with that call. Bella's scent, and the burning pain it still caused me, the need for restraint and the perpetual delay of the gratification I so desperately craved, the denial of my very nature — all of these things were ineluctable facets of my feelings, being near her. If my pleasure was so close to pain, and the maddening scent of her blood was so bound to my desire, could I hope to resist it when I allowed myself to…?

_Edward?_ Jasper pressed.

"I'm sorry. I'm…" I paused, slowing to a stop and seeing my own burning eyes in his mind. "I guess I'm…"

"Freaking out?" shouted Emmett turning to double back to Jasper and I. "It's natural, bro," he said, appearing in front of us, grinning. "Tomorrow's the big day! And tomorrow night? Aww yeah, bro. You're gonna get some. Finally, man, after a hundred…"

I think it was my face that finally shut him up. Or maybe it was Jasper's face, his lips were curled back over his teeth, and in his eyes I could see the reflection of my pain.

Whoa. Really freaking out, Emmett added silently, looking from Jasper to me, his face going straight.

"Edward," Jasper asked quietly, flinching a little, "what is it? Tell us! Let us help you."

"You can't," I returned, despairingly. "No one can."

"Second thoughts?" Emmett blundered on. I just looked at him. Jasper looked at me, thoughtful. Finally, he spoke.

"Edward, you're not still agonising over Bella's wanting to be one of us, are you?" he asked. _Carlisle is right, you know: you aren't stealing her soul. She's giving it to you, and this is her choice. She loves you as you love her. He was picturing me lost in the black hole of despair that had taken me when I'd left her, curled in on myself, practically catatonic, and the way my misery had nearly pulled all of them into it. This is the only way, Edward. For all of us. For you and Bella._

"She'll still be Bella, you know," he finished, out loud

"It's wrong, Jasper," I said, frustrated, "I'm taking so much from her."

Silence. Broken by Emmett.

"Naw, Jaz," Emmett said, his head cocked to one side, "that's not all it is. He's worried about the… uh… you know…" he trailed off, struggling for sensitivity in the face of my now truly ferocious expression. He settled for an in appropriately impish snigger and a waggle of his brow.

_That's it, isn't it. _Jasper thought, looking into my eyes and feeling the sudden spike in my anxiety. _Well… that is something to worry about._

"Thanks a lot, Jasper," I said, glaring. I was desperately trying to hold onto the equilibrium that would get me through this night. But suddenly, it was all too much. I sank to my knees, my head in my hands. "What am I thinking?" I groaned, "I'm a monster!"

I'd talked to my brothers about Bella's last request before, when we'd first made the deal. They'd been… incredulous, really. I'd quickly redirected the conversation from the insanity of my trying to make love to Bella, human, to a safer one about sex in general. They knew, of course, that love, physical or otherwise, had been a stranger to me until now, and I think they pitied me a little. Especially Emmett, who could only dimly remember life without Rosalie, and couldn't conceive of love without a physical expression. And, God knows I'd seen it all before in their minds — I tried to give everyone their privacy, but I'd seen enough, even just unintentionally. They'd told me that I could expect a pleasure second only to that of drinking human blood.

It hadn't, to be honest, been particularly comforting.

Add to that the fact that my experience wouldn't be like theirs. Emmett and Jasper had women they couldn't crush to death in their stone arms, and whose flushing cheeks and rushing blood didn't threaten to unseat every human feeling.

Jasper put a hand on my shoulder, and I could feel his influence, calming me. I couldn't object to the manipulation — I was losing it. I needed a moment of peace, even if it was just a palliative. I took a few deep breaths and straightened up again.

"I just don't know how not to hurt her." I paused, it was hard to say. I continued in a whisper. "I want her, but… what… if I…" I couldn't finish.

My brothers just looked at me. Jasper swallowed back a mouthful of venom, and I saw Bella in his mind — chalky, blood spattering her white cheek, her brown eyes empty. Emmett was imagining his and Rosalie's gymnastics; the way they'd torn entire houses apart in the throes of their passion. The Bella in his mind looked like a broken doll.

"I'm afraid." I told them. "What if I can't control myself?"

Jasper's expression was a reflection of mine. He felt it all — the fear, the aching desire, the pain. Looking into his face, I felt as if it had all doubled suddenly — he wasn't concentrating on soothing me, he was feeling as overcome as I was by my feelings.

"For God's sake," Emmett broke in, looking from me to Jasper, and back again. "When will this end, Edward?"

Jasper and I both looked at him in surprise.

"Seriously, you have been out of your damned mind since the first moment you saw that girl. I can't pretend I understand, because I don't," he broke off, glaring at us both, "but if you actually think for one moment that you are even remotely capable of hurting her… after all we've been through over this…" he spluttered incredulously.

My mouth had fallen open and Jasper, released from my emotions by Emmett's certainty, suddenly smiled. I felt his soothing influence again.

"Edward, he's right," Jasper said. "You won't hurt her. You can't. I don't have to be able to see the future to know that." Now he was smiling, too.

I couldn't.

"Edward. Bro. Look. We know you better than you know yourself. We've seen it all from the outside," Emmett charged on, emboldened. "We've seen you try to live without her," he scoffed. "We've seen your face when you look at her, and none of us have to be able to read your mind to know how you've tortured yourself every step of the way, but come on!" He was on a roll now. "You? Hurt Bella? It's ridiculous. It's not even possible. It's absurd!"

"He's right," Jasper affirmed, smiling now. He put his arm around my shoulders and shook me gently. "I know it goes against your very nature not to agonise over this, Edward, but Emmett's right." _Can't you try to just let yourself be happy tonight? Tomorrow, you're going to marry the girl you love. This is a beginning, not an end._

I took a deep, shaky breath, unconvinced.

"All right, then imagine it," urged Jasper. "Imagine yourself hurting her. Imagine your teeth cutting through her skin. Imagine drinking her blood, or crushing her bones in your arms. Imagine yourself actually doing something violent to Bella."

I tried. It was… true. I couldn't think of it, but then again, when she was close to me, I couldn't think, period. Thinking about it, I knew it was true — hurting her would contravene the prime directives of my instinct for self-preservation. I could no more hurt her than I could tear myself into pieces. Still, close to her, feeling her skin under my hands, I felt like I could still be overcome.

"But…" I started.

"Edward, you love her! You need to get out of your head. You're driving yourself mad," Jasper said quietly.

"Let's hunt," Emmett blustered, "that'll help, right? At least you won't be thirsty."

They were right. It would do me good to get out of my head, and it couldn't hurt to take precautions. We set out again, and I stayed near Jasper, grateful for his calming influence. Emmett had been stalking a herd of elk with a magnificent 14 point stag — "get it," he'd said, "stag party!" — and I'd caught the scent of a mountain lion stalking the elk. We gorged ourselves, and the hunt put some distance between me the maddening sensuality of Bella's quiet bedroom.

We regrouped in a clearing. Being in the forest at night with my brothers and hearing the certainty in their thoughts that my fears were overwrought made me feel calmer. Maybe they were right. Maybe they did know me better than I knew myself…

"Well, what now?" said Emmett brightly, "Seattle? Strippers?"

Jasper and I just stared blankly at him.

After a long pause, I said, "Would you guys mind if I went to find Carlisle?"

"Aw man," Emmett complained, "some bachelor party."


	3. Chapter 3: Two Fathers, One Son

**Edward's Midnight Sun, Part 3: Two Fathers, One Son**

In which Carlisle helps Edward deal with his fears about his wedding and wedding night, and Charlie calls him "son".

_Edward and Bella and all the other recognisable characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No money will ever be made as a result of this text, and no copyright infringement is intended._

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I found Carlisle in the woods a ways from the house, leaning against the bole of an enormous cedar in the pale, early morning light.

Alice told me you were looking for me, son. Carlisle's thoughts were warm, his eyes full of gratified paternal pride, but his smooth brow furrowed as he took in my expression.

Separated now from Jasper's soothing influence — he'd gone with Emmett back into the forest when I'd left to seek Carlisle — I felt the grief and panic returning, along with the feeling that I was wildly out of control and speeding inexorably toward an unthinkable disaster. I saw my face — grim and wild — in Carlisle's mind, and heard his wordless concern quicken as he sucked in a deep breath and stepped forward.

"What is it?" he asked, reaching for me with both arms. "Edward?"

I looked down, embarrassed. We'd been through so much over this already, Carlisle and I, but I let him wrap his stone arms around me. I needed him. Panic was mounting in me, but it was comforting just to be near him. His thoughts had a simple purity and a tenor that calmed me even more than Jasper's manipulations because something in the way Carlisle saw me brought me closer to my lost humanity than anything else. Carlisle had known me and loved me as a human boy, feverish and weak, and he loved me now as I burned in another way, feeling another kind of weakness.

And now he was worried about me. Searching for a reason for my pain, his paternal pride gave way to a tangle of memories. I saw fevered human self — saw myself as he had seen me, beautiful and innocent, and felt his need to save me. His need to keep me. Venom pooled in my mouth and his as he remembered the hot rush of my blood on his tongue, and I felt his struggle to resist consuming me with sense of familiarity; I'd resisted once, too. I saw myself, new to this life, speed and strength erupting in my once feeble limbs as Carlisle was suffused with a sense of bewildering joy in our companionship — joy he felt he could never deserve.

I saw my rage and rebellion when I'd left him to live as others of our kind did, felt his pain at being separated from me, his son, and his crushing feeling of failure. I felt his guilt for the choice he'd never given me in his desperation and loneliness — and his joy and forgiveness when I'd returned to him, penitent. I felt his worry as a wordless sorrow had seemed to take root in me as the years passed and I, alone in the midst of a family that loved me but whose love for each other I couldn't comprehend, seemed to fade, the light dimming in my face like a guttering candle as I turned inward, neither alive nor dead — incomplete.

Then, I saw myself in his mind as I struggled not to kill Bella, struggled to understand the emotion her quiet sweetness had awoken in me. In Carlisle's memories, I saw something blossoming in my face like a light seeming to fill me from the inside even before I'd learned to call it by it's name — love. I saw Carlisle's wonder, and the bottomless depth of his relief when he'd known that I'd finally found my own reason to call this existence a life; someone to struggle to be worthy of. To him, my fight against the monster in me, my struggle to deserve Bella, had been the pheonix-like renewal of my human self, and I knew he was proud of me — his first companion, his son. I knew how all of us — first me, then Esme and the others, had changed the world for him, and I knew that now he saw that same change taking shape in me, making my world new.

Carlisle's memory, filled with understanding, compassion and unwavering commitment to me — his love for me — grounded and anchored me. With his love, I realised he had shaped me over all these years; made me what I was. As he held me close, I felt how truly the origin of my ability to love Bella was in his love for me, and I felt a cleansing wave of gratitude wash through me. I relaxed into his embrace, letting out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

The relief he felt — I felt it too. Bella's love for me, and mine for her was like being given a chance at heaven after an aimless age in purgatory. But, how could I deserve it after all I'd done? How could such a heaven open itself for me when really, I was only letting myself do the most selfish thing I could imagine — plotting to carry a sweet, perfect creature far away so that I could satiate my growing, ungovernable desire? And then, If I could stop myself from destroying her with the fury of my physical needs, I would destroy her soul.

It was so wrong!

I saw Bella's face in my mind, warm and soft, her cheeks flushed, her eyes deep and dark, and watched in horror as my mind turned them crimson. I sobbed dryly, once, into Carlisle's shoulder, and realised I was shaking again.

"Edward, tell me," he insisted softly, his hands finding my shoulders and pushing me back to look into my face. "Son?" His eyes searched mine, insistent and full of concern. _Edward, please,_ He continued silently. _This should be a joyful day._

"Joyful? Carlisle, I'm going to destroy her!" I choked out. "If I don't tear her to pieces on the honeymoon, I'll steal her soul…" The shame of it fanned out inside me, and I drew back, raking my fingernails over my forehead.

"…I am a monster" I choked, "I'm going to destroy her."

And yet, even as I said it, I knew: I could never, ever leave her. Never. I had to stay this path. I wanted her now in a way that I knew, with perfect clarity, that I could never resist. When it had only been the bloodlust, I'd fought it because it was, quite simply, evil. No justification could make the the destruction of an innocent to slake my unholy thirst right. But that desire, so overpowering when I'd first felt it, was nothing now. Now that she'd agreed to forsake her mortal life and bind herself to me for eternity, and I'd succumbed to her pleading for one last human experience, I'd been fighting a losing battle. My resolve was crumbling fast, and every time she pressed her soft, hot body against the cold stone of mine, I was closer to defeat. I wanted her warm and soft, just as she was, and I wanted her soul. There was no denying it, and nothing could stop me. It had to be like this.

Carlisle frowned, his beautiful features dark. Was he angry?

"Edward," he began, his voice stern, "what I did to you — that was stealing. I didn't ask what you wanted, I just took you because I wanted you. I was lonely, I needed… someone. I took you," he paused, looking down quickly, and then up into my eyes. _You aren't stealing, son he thought, you're accepting a gift: Bella's love is a gift. You can't steal what is freely offered._

"Edward, this is the only way."

I moved to protest — he stopped me, his eyes serious.

"Can't you see, Edward? Bella was meant for you," he urged, "and unlike what I've done — playing God and stealing the souls I desired — she is offering herself freely to you, body and soul."

He paused, his face still, joy and pain mingled plainly on it.

"Just because it's offered, Carlisle, doesn't mean it's right to take it." I whispered.

"What makes you think that you have the right to decide?" he countered. "Edward, think about how much you need her. Think about what losing her would mean for you, and then try to realise this: it's the same for Bella. Can't you see what you would condemn her to if you left her… if you refused her?"

I said nothing. Carlisle was right: it was too late to turn back, and it was my fault. I'd been too weak to leave her alone from the beginning; too selfish to sacrifice my own compulsive desires. Now the promise of that fateful day when her burning scent had first doomed her would come to fruition, despite all my restraint, all my struggle.

"Carlisle," I breathed, "her life! Her soul."

"Edward, you are her life, and you are her soul," Carlisle said, raising his voice so that it rang in the pale light of the forest, "just as Bella is yours." His eyes were blazing, his lips parted as he searched my face, willing me to understand. "Son, without her, you truly are a soulless demon, and refusing her now would destroy you both."

_I've seen you without her, Edward. He added silently. You're afraid now because you know what I'm saying is true. You've never had so much to live for, or so much to lose. You say you don't have a soul, do you really believe that, or is it just fear? A soul is a heavy burden, and how could you love as you do — ache as you do now without a soul? Don't be a coward, son. Give yourself to her. Let her give herself to you._

I looked away from him, knowing he was right. He felt my acquiescence immediately and relaxed, the flame in his eyes subsiding. I looked at him again, thinking now about the ache; how I ached for Bella, and how close the burn of my thirst was to the burning I felt when she touched me. I looked at the ground.

"Carlisle," I said quietly, resigned, "the wedding night… I don't know how… I don't trust myself not to hurt her."

I looked up to find his eyes soft and kind, a serious smile playing on his lips.

"I want to…" I paused searching his face and starting again, "I need her, Carlisle. It's like I'm on fire, and it's worse… worse than the desire for her blood," the words spilled out in a rush. There was no time for shame or modesty.

"I'm so afraid I'll hurt her… that I won't be able to control it. Carlisle, it's so… strong."

"Edward," Carlisle said seriously, trying not to smile, "whatever else you may be, you are a man. You've been denying these…" he paused, and then looked into my eyes, and said it — "needs for longer than you've been a vampire. I was like you, Edward. I came into this life untouched, and I waited nearly two centuries for Esme. Do you really think I don't know what you're feeling?"

"But Esme was unbreakable, Carlisle. Bella is…"

"You can't hurt her, son," Carlisle was shaking his head sadly, "Don't you see yourself at all?" You are strong enough for this, son, see what I see.

And I did. I saw myself touching Bella, saw the reverence in my eyes when I looked at her. I saw the gentleness in my face and body when I was near her. And then, without warning, Carlisle's thoughts changed suddenly, and I was filled with instant revulsion as I saw my mouth locked to Bella's wrist, saw rivulets of red seeping between her white skin and my bloody lips. A spasm rocked me and my body reacted, retching and choking. I clutched at my gut and stumbled back.

"Stop!" I gasped, and it was over as quickly as it began.

"You can't hurt her," he repeated, his words saturated with certainty.

Just like Emmett and Jasper, he was right; I couldn't hurt her. I smiled weakly.

"Son, when you… when you're with her…" he began. I looked up at him, waited for him to continue, "…if you feel yourself… losing control, or you feel a desire to… bite… Son, just open your eyes and look at her. Look into her face. Remind yourself."

I swallowed hard, and nodded. There was nothing I could say.

"Edward, she's here now, you know. Alice has her," he smiled. "She's very nervous. She needs you to be strong."

I knew Alice would have killed me for it, but I looked quickly into her mind and saw Bella, looking pale and compliant as Alice fussed over her. I smiled. But, I needed a bit more time, and I knew Alice would never let me near her. I had a few hours. I would go to our meadow. Carlisle released me with a smile, and paternal pride was, once again, his primary emotion. I thanked him, and sped away through the dappled light of the forest. The wind was cool as I ran, and revelled in the sensation of it against my skin. I let my hands brush over the ferns as I slowed, seeing the light ahead as I neared my destination, and finally stepped out into the soft sunlight.

The meadow was fresh and green. The scent of the place, grass and wild flowers, reminded me of the last time I'd been here with Bella, when, dismayed by the feeling that I'd forced her to accept only my terms, I'd wanted to rescind them all and give myself to her. I remembered the way the desire had doubled itself in me when I'd allowed myself to consider surrendering to what she wanted… what I wanted. It had felt so… well, there were no words to say how it felt to have her in my arms, to kiss her, to be so close to… But, Bella had surprised me again by insisting on waiting, insisting on doing everything I wanted. She'd been insisting on protecting my soul.

I sighed and sank to my knees. Carlisle was right. Right about everything. Bella was mine and I was hers. I had to man up and be brave enough to follow through with all of it. I wanted Bella as she wanted me — needed her as she needed me — and no aspect of our relationship could be compromised. I would marry her, I would try to make love to her, and I would make our love eternal. She had made her choice, and now, for the first time, I had truly made mine.

I rose and tilted my head back to feel the warmth of the sun as it reached it's zenith in the midday sky, and was suddenly filled with a joy and lightness of spirit that I hadn't felt in decades. Today I would marry Bella Swan, the loveliest girl in the world. I smiled to myself and let the feeling fill me for a moment. Then, I turned and bolted back to the house.

At the door, I met my brothers returning from their extended hunt. Jasper smiled widely as he felt the peace in me, and Emmett, ever the loveable, booming lug, thumped me on the back. My face in his mind looked sheepish, my smile shy and embarrassed.

As they went into the house, Charlie pulled up in his cruiser with Mr. Weber, looking uncomfortable in his formal suit. He looked intently at me as he slammed the door and moved towards me. Mr. Weber greeted me briefly before Esme appeared at the door, pulling him into the house, leaving us alone.

"Edward." Charlie greeted me, taciturn as ever.

"Charlie," I nodded.

"Look. We've had our differences," he began, his thoughts a wordless tangle of resignation and bristling protectiveness, "but I know Bella. She loves you, and she's stubborn as hell. I can't fight her on this."

I said nothing. What could I say? She was his daughter, and I would take her from him. I'd known from the start that his blessing had been grudgingly bestowed.

"All I'm gonna say is this: if you hurt her… if you ever… leave her again…"

I found my voice.

"Charlie," I interrupted, "I wish I could make you understand that I can't leave her. I love her with every particle of my being, and being separated from her ever again would kill me. I promise you that I will protect her, cherish her and love her with my every thought and every breath until I no longer exist. She is my life."

Charlie staggered back a little, and I saw my face as he saw it — preternaturally golden eyes blazing with inhuman intensity. My stone features animated, my voice intense. His thoughts were mute and bewildered, as though I had mesmerised him. He shook his head as if shaking off a blow and looked away. When he turned back to me, I saw his acceptance on his face, and heard it in his thoughts. He extended his hand to me slowly and I took it, heedless of my cold hard skin. He shook it once, and nodded.

"You have my blessing… son," he said, taking his hand back and pocketing it, unnerved again, while I was suddenly overcome with emotion. Without another word, he turned and entered the house.

I mastered myself and followed. Ready for this day for the first time, I went silently to my room to dress.


	4. Chapter 6: Body and Soul

**Edward's Midnight Sun, Part 6: Body and Soul**

In which Edward finally gets his little slice of heaven.

_Edward and Bella and all the other recognisable characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No money will ever be made as a result of this text, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_

I stripped off my shirt and walked through the french doors, leaving her in the bedroom, and went slowly towards the water. When I heard her go into the bathroom I stopped, listening. I could hear her breathing — uneven, laboured. Her heart was pounding. She was afraid. Of course she was.

Her mind was closed to me, as always — and, as always, it rankled that I couldn't simply know what she was thinking. Was she afraid to die? Afraid my loss of control might result in an emergency transformation? Afraid of spending her honeymoon writhing in agony, or — was she afraid for me? Worrying about my struggle and my fears? I heard her turn on the shower, and I smiled in spite of myself. A shower before swimming in the ocean. I shook my head. Maybe she was just afraid of the normal human things this night held — afraid to be naked and to give that last part of herself to me. Afraid because she'd never been touched the way I would touch her tonight. Afraid because she didn't know any better than I did how to do what we had on the schedule.

Maybe it was just stage fright.

I sighed.

Knowing Bella, she was feeling insecure; worrying that she might not be enough for me — might not please me. Absurd. I felt like I had successfully perpetrated an elaborate con that ended with me stealing this beautiful girl from the protective arms of her father, her mother, and with their blessing! Now she was mine, all that was left to do was cackle evilly and have my way with her. I could hardly believe I had her here, alone; that she had agreed to all of it, that she loved me, and that now we belonged to each other. She had already made me happier than I could ever deserve if I'd been a saint, and heaven knows I was anything but that.

I walked to the edge of the water, stripping the rest of my clothes off as I went, and hung them on an obliging tree. I'd promised her this night, and I would do everything I could to keep that promise. I knew she had her fears, even if she'd never admit them to me, and I knew what she refused to see: that there was good reason for them. Bella, though, was resolute. She knew what she wanted, and she knew what she was willing to risk for it. She, more than anyone I'd ever known, had the courage of her convictions. She knew what felt right and she simply aimed herself at it, clear-eyed and fearless. She wanted me as I wanted her. This sweet, brave, perfect, beautiful girl wanted me. I thrilled to the truth of it, and standing at the edge of the sea in the quiet night — the night of my honeymoon — I couldn't help but feel immense, almost excruciating joy.

I looked back at the house, listening for her. Still in the shower. I imagined her there, hot water running in rivulets down her white skin, and the fear — crushing and intense — flooded back. What was I afraid of? There were the usual suspects, of course: would I lose control? Would it simply be too much for me to make love to her, surrounded by her, breathing her? Would she bleed when she gave herself to me, and would that small flow of her blood destroy the last vestige of my self-control? I shook my head. Would I kill her? Could I?

Of course not.

I knew I was inured to the monster in me that had wanted to murder her — he was buried deep, toothless and impotent — but I'd been fighting another kind of monster for months now: my relentlessly mounting desire. I wanted her like I'd never wanted anything in all of my long life — more, even, than her blood on that fateful day in Biology. Bella knew I'd struggled with my bloodlust, but she was much too modest to imagine the full heat and fury of my desire. I'd never shown her the depth of my longing to bury myself in her — to touch her everywhere. To taste her. To let go of everything that held me back, and lose myself in her. I'd tried to convince her to wait until I couldn't hurt her with the force of my need, but if I was honest with myself, I had to admit that I wanted her exactly as she was now — warm, soft, yielding, human — too. I wanted this night as much as she did. Maybe more.

Admitting it, I let myself feel the anticipation, and the fear.

The truth was, I was afraid the way any human man would be on a night like this, and worse. I was a 106 year old virgin, for God's sake! I wasn't sure I really even knew how do do what she wanted of me. If I could keep from hurting her, that was only part of the problem. I knew the mechanics of course, but surely there was more to it than that. Could I please her?

Closing my eyes, I imagined myself with her — imagined touching her. Imagined the look on her face as she let me inside her — the way her soft, pink lips might part, the way her deep brown eyes might loose their focus to the feeling of it. Would they roll back and close gently? Would she make a sound? A devastating, soft moan of pleasure, the way I imagined it? I shuddered. Then, I though about my cold, stone skin — how would it feel to her? Would she gasp? Would it hurt her?

Naked now, on the beach, thinking thoughts like these, my body was ready for her. I looked ruefully down at the evidence that even if I had no idea what to do, my body knew what it wanted, and I felt nothing so much as embarrassed and ashamed of my eagerness. I shook my head and walked out into the relative safety of the water, trailing my fingertips on the shimmering surface, looking up at the silvery moon, and then submerged myself, laying under the surface of the water and listening to the sounds of the sea. There was a warm, gentle breeze in the trees, muffled now to my ears, blending with the soft lap of the waves on the sand. The water was warm against my cold skin. Here, under the water, I felt calmer for a moment.

I closed my eyes and thought of her again, her skin, her eyes — and tried to imagine what I might look like to her. Would my face reveal the desperation of my craving? I'd be giving myself, too. What would it be like for me? Her warm body surrounding me like an open flame; her legs tight around me, tying me to her; her sweet hot breath as she pulled me closer. The feel of her supple skin on the full length of my stony form, touching me where no one had ever, in all my long life, touched.

Overwhelming. I stood up.

A new wave of fear washed over me, and I knew Carlisle was right: what truly provoked it was my own vulnerability and desire. What if I was too cold, too hard? What if my own desire was too insistent? What if I couldn't please her? What if I couldn't give her this one thing she wanted so badly? I knew it would kill me to hurt her, and I was confident that everything in me resisted that, but could I bear the pain of disappointing her?

I'd never felt as flawed, as human as I did now, and I'd never wished more fervently that I was. Simply human. Simply a man on his honeymoon with his wife.

I heard her voice from the house, just a whisper on the soft night breeze: "Don't be a coward." I smiled in spite of myself. Then, I heard her purposeful step through the french doors. She was coming. She walked slowly towards the water, hesitating for a moment. There was a rustle of fabric moving over her skin as she left her towel on the tree with my clothes. I didn't turn. I liked feeling her eyes on me as she padded softly through the sand to the water's edge. I stood absolutely still.

I would try.

I could never be worthy of her love, but I would try to give her what she wanted of me. Anything she wanted. If she could be brave, so could I. I took a deep breath as I felt the water move against me with her approach, and laid my palms on the rippling surface, looking up at the moon. For a moment, I wondered if there was a God who could hear my silent prayer — _Please let me be strong enough to love her the way she deserves to be loved. Amen._

And then she was there, by my side. She laid her hand over mine, looking up at the moon, too.

"Beautiful," she said, simply. Her voice hushed.

I turned to look at her. Her skin was pale rose petals in the moonlight, her wet hair clung to her white shoulders in black tendrils, and her eyes! Soft, immeasurably deep, and full of the disarming innocence of her love for me. It was more than a man could bear, and so much more than I could ever deserve.

"It's alright," I answered, twining my fingers in hers, "but I wouldn't use the word beautiful. Not with you standing here in comparison," I added, trying to sound composed. How could I ever tell her how beautiful, how perfect, she was?

There were no words.

She smiled, her eyes calm and clear, and raised her free hand to place it on my chest, over my silent heart, and the warmth of it shot through me. She didn't tremble. She was so brave, so good. She'd accepted me, monster that I am. I was overcome by gratitude. God, I loved her. I loved her with every particle of my being, everything I ever had been, was, or ever would be.

There'd been a time when I'd thought that my thirst defined me — that I was the thirst, and nothing more. Now I knew that I was nothing but this almost unbearable love; just the vehicle for it. This love I felt for Bella had recreated me in its image. Again, I silently prayed that I would have the strength to show it to her tonight — to give myself to her and let her give herself to me — but even as I did, I imagined myself inside her; imagined her warm and wet, pulling me closer, deeper, her hands on my hips. Jesus. I didn't know how I could even imagine restraining myself. My need was tremendous. I had to warn her, remind her of the danger.

"I promised we would try…" my voice was just a whisper, rough and thick in my throat "If… if I do something… wrong… if I hurt you… you must tell me at once." I looked into her eyes and tried to communicate the force of my knotted feelings wordlessly.

She nodded, her eyes grave, but unflinching. She moved closer to me, the water she displaced caressing my bare skin, and she laid her cheek against my cold chest.

"Don't be afraid," she murmured softly. "We belong together."

She was right. There was no denying it. I wrapped my arms around her and pressed her against me — she was so warm, so soft. I sighed. My body thrummed with desire… and love. Surely this much love was enough to protect us both from the wildfire that was burning in my every cell.

"Forever," I agreed, pulling her with me into deeper water, feeling it wash over us, and letting my hands travel down the length of her. She shuddered and raised her lips to mine, open and soft, filling my senses with her sweet breath. I kissed her hungrily, feeling the burn of my desire for her, and rejoicing in it, feeling not like a monster, but like a man. Her mouth was just as hungry, and as she kissed me, her hands wandered over my body, leaving trails of fire. I gasped as she brought them to my waist, let them slide over my hip, pulling me closer to her, crushing my now unbearable arousal between us. I groaned into her mouth, and felt her answer on my lips.

It was time.

I lifted her into my arms and carried her out of the water, up the beach and into the house. I went slowly. Was I savouring the moment, or delaying the inevitable? Both. She was silent, one arm wrapped around my shoulders, and the other hand caressing my cheek, running her fingers through my hair, her eyes serious on my face. I didn't look at her. I couldn't.

I laid her on the white bed and followed on my knees, trailing kisses up her thigh and over her hip. Her skin puckered and a shiver ran through her. It was so hot in the room; she couldn't be cold. I smiled, and brought my hand up to cover her soft breast feeling her nipple harden under my touch, her breath hitching. My mouth followed my hand, kissing and sucking one breast while my cool fingers brought the other one to life, and she whimpered a little, her hands in my hair, pressing me to her, burying my nose in her soft, fragrant flesh. I inhaled a mouthful of flame and finally lifted my face to look into her eyes. They were soft and pleading. I ducked my head down to tease her nipple with the tip of my cold tongue and watched her eyes roll back as her head fell back onto the pillow.

"Oh, Edward," she breathed, "yes."

The way her voice wrapped around my name felt like an electrical shock, sending a tremor through me. I shuddered, my mouth still on her breast, and let my hand travel down, over her trembling stomach, to the little shock of fur below — stroked it. Her hips responded involuntarily, as if they were not her own, and she pressed herself into my hand, her breath fast and hard now.

"Please," she whispered, fervently "Edward…"

My name again. Oh God… She looked at me with urgent eyes. Was she willing me to touch her? I hoped so, because desire was flooding my mind. I let my fingers go deeper, gently stroking through the fur to the slick folds beneath, and watched her eyes close tightly as her mouth fell open. I pressed my fingers deeper, into something hot, wet and slick… I drew a long, shuddering breath, and then, I caught the scent of her.

"Oh, Bella. Bella…" I couldn't say anything more.

I could feel the rush of her blood hotter than ever around my fingers, and the scent! My head was suddenly spinning, my breath fast. I couldn't take in enough air to breathe enough of her in, and yet every breath was fire. I dragged my lips, parched and needy, down her body as she trembled under me, and brought my nose close to the scent, breathing deeply, feeling it burn in my throat, like always, yes, but not only in my throat, everywhere. I was engulfed in it. I couldn't stop myself — I let my tongue flick out to taste her. It was so good — salty and sweet at the same time — her scent, intensified and stronger than ever. I groaned again, my senses overwhelmed, and crushed my mouth to her, wanting to consume her.

Dangerous thought, that. I controlled it.

I couldn't stop myself, though, from letting my tongue find the source of this intoxicating smell, pushing it into her. She arched towards me, whimpering helplessly, her legs falling apart, letting me in deeper. I licked, sucked and kissed her, lapping at her, holding her hips fast to me, her soft flesh yielding to my stony hands, feeling her bones, and burying my face in her like a ravening animal.

"Edward," she half-moaned my name, her body tense now, her hips bucking a little in my hands.

I held her tighter and she cried out. In pain? I couldn't stop. It took everything I had to keep from biting her… but I didn't. I didn't bite her. Her breath came faster and faster, her hands twisting in my hair, every exhalation a little "ungh" of what? Pleasure? Pain? I was ashamed to realise that part of me didn't care — all I cared about was drinking her in. Nothing could have stopped me. Her whole body tensed and trembled, she cried out — my name? — and at last I felt her fluttering and clenching under my mouth, her body grasping at my tongue, my lips, as she released a long, deep moan and fell back on the bed, limp, her breathing laboured, her skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat, one of her hands tangled in my damp hair, twitching.

I could wait no longer. The ache I felt was unendurable. I had to have her. Now.

I dragged my face up her body again, my hands tight on her arms. I forced her under me, and she didn't fight it. Her eyes were open but unfocused, like she'd been stunned. She brought her hand to my face, stroked my jaw gently, brushed my hair back. I was drowning. Losing control. I closed my eyes, my jaw tense, and whispered my need to her.

"Bella, I have to… I need…"

"Shhh. I know," she whispered. "I know. I want you, too. So much."

It was all I needed to hear. I drew in a long, ragged, burning breath. The scent of her was still wet on my mouth and in my nostrils. I couldn't think. I felt her hands move down my body to grasp the part of me that, as she touched me, ached even more than my throat filled with the fire of her blood. Her hands were gentle and so very hot. A guttural sound came involuntarily from deep in my chest as she guided me, led me. I was helpless. I let her put me where she wanted me, and couldn't stop myself from pushing into her, trying to be gentle — trying to hold back the violence of my desire, as I buried myself in her. Too hard? She gasped a little, her eyes wide. Pain? A sharp shock. Was I too cold? Was I hurting her?

"Bella?" I asked, tortured by my need and fear of hurting her.

"Shhhh," she whispered, her hands on my flanks, stroking. "Yes. Yes, Edward."

I was so hard I felt like I was going to explode. Her body surrounded me, hot and slick. I could feel her blood rushing all around me. I realised that I couldn't be cold now, not immersed in so much heat. My eyes closed, and now there was no room for anything but this sensation of being inside her, feeling her body mould itself to mine, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm clutching at me, pulling me deeper.

I lifted myself up, finding a fulcrum to move — I had to move — and slid more deeply into her. As I did, her mouth dropped open — an astonished "oh". She gazed up at me, her eyes wide, and absolutely unguarded, her cheeks and breast flushed pale pink. I slowly drew back and watched her eyes close. I moved back into her, slowly this time, and her hands came up gasping at my hair, and she moaned softly. Then, my desire took me. I thrust myself into her again and again, as deeply as I could, the need was a wild ferocity building in my body, coiled and tense. She wrapped her legs around me, encouraged me, arched her hips up to meet me, each thrust eliciting the kind of sounds I'd always dreamed she might make. Was she all right? Did she know how close I was to the edge? I leaned down, wanting more of her, dropping my lips to her lips, to her jaw, her neck, feeling her warmth under my lips, her rushing blood so close under her skin. I was so close… so close… to what?

Biting her?

Control it! I pulled myself away to look at her — remind myself — and then, wrapping one arm under her behind I lifted her hips and held her to me, driving into her, the warm, wet rhythm drowning every other thing.

The feeling was indescribable. It built on itself, consuming me entirely. It emptied my mind. I couldn't stop. Couldn't think. I was utterly abandoned to the place where she and I were fused together. I opened my eyes to look into her face again, and as I did, she tossed her head back and moaned low and deep, her hands grasping at my waist, and then she opened her eyes and looked into mine… and then I did explode, emptying myself into her convulsively with a final deep plunge, my face coming down next to hers. I breathed her in with a long, burning breath, and tore at something soft with my teeth — I had to bite! — and heard her cry out as colour continued to explode behind my eyelids, her name on my lips. Had I bitten her?

No. There were feathers on my tongue. Just the pillow. I drew a ragged breath and collapsed onto her warm, soft body.

I don't know how long it took me to resurface; I was utterly spent. I felt physical weakness in a way I couldn't remember ever having felt. At first, I wasn't sure I _could_ move. She lay beneath me, stroking me, softly running her hands through my hair, tracing gentle patterns on my back. It was so quiet, except for her heart beating an uneven rhythm against my chest. I realised I was crushing her. How heavy I must be, inert on top of her. I moved to release her, but she stopped me.

"Don't go, Edward. I can't let you go," she breathed, pressing her hand into the small of my back and lifting her hips to keep me close to her.

I propped myself up on my elbows and saw that tears were rolling down her face. For a moment I was terrified.

"Bella, did I… Are you… ?"

She shook her head silently, a soft breath escaping her lips, and stroked my cheek with the back of her hand, smiling a little. Her eyes were bleary — warmer and deeper than ever. I hugged her close to me, securing her along the length of my body and rolled, pulling her on top of me, as her legs dropped around my thighs. She sighed, lay her cheek on my chest and nestled closer. Within moments, she was breathing deeply, sleeping, her body still holding mine in its soft grip.

I was overcome with emotion. It flooded through me. I wrapped my arms around this sleeping girl with whom I had travelled the extremes of my nature — from inhuman, blood-thirsty monster, to this moment — the most human I'd known in a century. If it were possible for me to weep, I would have wept. I'd never felt more sated — more complete. Nothing, not even the sweet taste of her blood, could compare.

I closed my eyes to listen to her breath, the palpitations of her heart. She stirred, sighed softly and nestled against me, her hair falling over my shoulder. In this one glorious moment, I knew that Carlisle was right: I did have a soul, and right now I was in heaven. Or, perhaps it was just that this love — mine and hers — had resurrected and ensouled me. All I knew was that this night could never be long enough. I never wanted to move, never wanted to separate my body from hers.

I just wanted to stay like this — finally whole — forever.


End file.
